


Familiar Things

by violasarecool



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Sending Crystals, background cadash/cass and cadash/dorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 04:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: technicallyspeaking, dorian and cassandra could use the sending crystals dorian set up for the inqusitor to talk to each other. it's just, they never have before.





	Familiar Things

It was late in the night, so late that it technically qualified as morning, if you cared about that sort of thing. Dorian only cared if it meant he could stop wasting candles squinting at _magisterial_ correpondence and get back to wasting sunlight on more interesting, possibly more dangerous matters. Asassins were starting to seem like a welcome reprieve.

He stood up, letting the letter in question fall to the desk as he stretched his arms over his head, joints popping in protest. "Maker, I need a break," he muttered, taking the few steps over to his bed before collapsing back into its pillowy depths. His head tipped to the side, gaze falling on the necklace sitting on his bedside table: his sending crystal, its surface quiet and dark.

As if conscious of his attention, it began to pulse, faint light spilling across the room. Dorian blinked, then scrambled upright, stretching out to cup the pendant in his palm before opening the magical connection. "I didn't expect to be hearing from you so soon," he said without preamble, leaning back against the pillows with a contented sigh.

"Dorian," a voice said, a voice very different from either Rascón or Bull's rumbling tones; Dorian shot upright, surprise wiping all exhaustion from his brain.

"Cassandra?" he said, wrinkling his nose. "I believe you have the wrong man; you'll want to try for someone a little shorter and less charming."

"You're right," Cassandra said shortly, "this was a foolish idea. I am sorry for bothering you."

 _Wait, what?_ Dorian stared at the pendant, confused. "Hang on a moment," he said, brow wrinkling, "were you actually trying to contact _me?"_

There was only silence on the other end. Still, the necklace continued to pulse, indicating Cassandra's continued presence. After a moment, he heard a huff of air. "Yes," she said. 

_Hm._ Dorian tipped his head, considering. "I must admit, I'm a little surprised. I set up our link mainly as a formality; I rather imagined you'd be happy for a reprieve from my presence after the Inquisition's disbanding."

"Is it really so hard to believe I might enjoy speaking to you now and then?"

"Yes?" Dorian said instinctively; Cassandra snorted. "Fine," he said, with an exasperated smile, "I suppose I'll concede we've managed _some_ moderately pleasant conversation. So, go on, talk away," he said, flopping back onto his bed, "you're in luck, my schedule's completely free."

"No appointments in the middle of the night?" Cassandra said dryly, "I am stunned."

"I know, rather remiss of me. Got to use all the time you have, you know?"

"Yes," Cassandra said quietly. 

A little _too_ quietly for his liking, really. _Exhaustion_ _doesn't suit you._ "Divine duties keeping you working late?" he asked.

"You have no idea," she grumbled. "There is _always_ something that needs overseeing; no one knows how to work independently. Sign this, read that, tell the priests how to do a job they have been doing for 20 years or more, because apparently only the Divine can decide how to redecorate the sanctuary."

"I hate to say it, but you _did_ sign up for this," Dorian grinned.

"I _signed up_ to _reform_ the Chantry, not wade through a logistical mire!"

Well. _That_ gave him some pause. "When you put it like that... it sounds a little _too_ familiar, if I'm being honest."

"Oh?"

"Well, for one thing, no one knows how to weaponize years of tradition and legislation like a Magister. A bit of gold slipped to the right person, and everyone's spinning their wheels for weeks while some self-important family tweaks things _their_ way." Dorian rolled his eyes. "In the _two years_ I spent back home prior to the Exalted Council, I honestly think I accomplished more around my family's _estate_ than with the Magisterium." 

Cassandra gave a soft laugh. "I think you may have the worse end of the bargain."

"Oh, definitely," Dorian agreed. "Though at the very least, _I_ don't need a personal honour guard following me wherever I go."

"Do not remind me. Security, I understand, but..." She made a disgusted noise. "By your comment, I assume Rascón has already told you what happened last week."

"He may have complained about it a few times," Dorian said, grinning. "But I _do_ love hearing you complain about it yourself. Adds a certain _flavour_ Rascón just doesn't have the talent for."

"What are you saying, I have a talent for _complaining?"_

"Well, yes. A rather excellent one, at that."

There was a huffing noise on the other end. "I feel as if I should be insulted, but frankly I do not have the energy."

"You might consider _sleeping,"_ Dorian said, "I don't know if you've heard, but it's what one does when one is lacking for energy. Quite the rage these days."

"That is rich coming from you," Cassandra said, and Dorian laughed.

"Touché," he said.

"Thank you," Cassandra said, though her voice was serious now, and Dorian could tell she wasn't just acknowledging his concession. "I do enjoy our conversations, you know."

"As do I," Dorian said, his own sincerity taking him by surprise. "We should do this more often. Complain about our respective days."

"I.. would like that," Cassandra said.

Dorian grinned. "Thought you might."

"Hah hah," Cassandra said, and he could just _hear_ her rolling her eyes. "I believe I will sleep after all."

"You don't say."

"Goodnight, Dorian," she said firmly, though with a touch of amusement that had an answering smile on his face.

"Goodnight, Cassandra."


End file.
